


Clint Barton, Vampire Slayer

by Sproid



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire Slayer, And they still keep their day jobs, Clint looks out for Bruce, F/M, M/M, Magic, Music, Phil's crush is obvious, Superheroes, Vampire Slayer(s), Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-02
Updated: 2012-09-02
Packaged: 2017-11-13 09:37:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/502078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sproid/pseuds/Sproid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The adventures of Clint Barton, Vampire Slayer.</p>
<p>This part: How to be a Slayer while working for SHIELD and with the Avengers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [poppetawoppet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/poppetawoppet/gifts).



> This is not a particularly in depth reworking of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, but rather takes the fun elements from the series and applies them to the world of the Avengers. There are references to the series but no spoilers beyond the first season, with a few hints at fourth season events. Mostly it's me having fun playing in two of my favourite universes at once ;)

Clint Barton is called as the Slayer when he's fifteen. At the time he's bumming around in a nowhere town that's got nothing to hold him there save for a decent enough foster family who feed him every day, send him to school when they can, and probably care about him a lot more than he cares about them. He feels kind of guilty for leaving them, but the pull westwards to what ends up being Kansas is way stronger than the vague sense of obligation to stick around.

When he finds freakish things with fangs and wrinkled foreheads in Kansas, human-ish looking monsters that explode into ashes when he somehow manages to punch an arrow through their chests – something he does out of panic and instinct rather than any knowledge that it's a good idea – there's no question about going back home. This is way more fun than school.

His Watcher turns up six weeks later. That kind of ruins the fun, but only when the guy is actually around to be all stuffy and chastising. That's not often, because Clint is a whole lot younger and faster than ol' Harold, so it's no trouble disappearing to kill vamps and demons on his own.

Clint sticks with Harold for about a year, takes advantage of someone buying him food and giving him a bed, but he can only take so much of being told what to do before he has to leave. The only thing of value that watcher guy has to offer is that Clint should keep his identity as the Slayer a secret, which, duh, really a no-brainer. What kind of an idiot would advertise that he killed supernatural beings for a job? Way to get them all turning up to kill you, and probably get yourself locked up in a mental institution to boot.

So, two weeks after his sixteenth birthday, Clint takes off for the circus. Full of freaks, he figures, where better to earn some cash and still be able to slay vamps out of hours with no awkward questions asked? It turns out better than he expected, because the folks there actually know stuff about the demon world. Some of them _are_ demons, which is weird at first until he learns that the fire-breather has a wicked sense of humour and the snake charmer has a talented tongue. And she's more than happy to use it on him, which, _hell yes_. Best blowjob ever. 

She seemed pretty pleased with his tongue as well, which was a relief because he'd never used it in that way before.

Anyway, outside of that, he learns one hell of a lot at the circus. Silver actually does work for werewolves, but try not to kill them unless they're still trying to rip your throat out when they're human again. Slime sticks to everything until it dries, at which point it just cracks off. Stakes are good for vamps but an arrow from fifty metres away? No risk, no damage to clothes, and the look on their faces before they dissolve into dust is fucking hilarious.

The seer teaches him how to sense a vampire before he's even seen it, and he practices finding them by the way they move and speak and sound. By the time he leaves the circus, he can look at a room full of crowded beings of all kinds and spot the nasty ones in a second. They christen him _Hawkeye_ , drawing his name on his chest in holy water, and it fits.

He's still kind of fond of 'Clint Barton, Vampire Slayer' though. It's got a nice ring to it.

The military teaches him that guns don't work on Fyarls, that his superiors are pretty much all assholes, that there are no vamps in the Sahara but the wildlife there wants his blood anyway. He learns that it's really hard to hide medieval weaponry from the aforementioned asshole superiors, that the enemies have no qualms about sending M'Fashnik demons to do their dirty work for them, and that being a vampire slayer really does not work well with being on a covert ops team. They're way too observant for their own good.

It is, thankfully, surprisingly easy to lie to the med team about where he gets foot-long gouges across his back from, and to escape before they realise that said gouges are healing a whole lot faster than they should be. They're either really gullible or just fed up of seeing his ass in the med bay. He doesn't know why. He's got a really nice ass.

Tough as it is though, he manages, cleans out vamp nests and demon lairs wherever he goes and gets back to the base in time for sunrise. Like any job there's busy times and quiet times, and he sleeps anywhere and anyhow he can during the quiet ones so he doesn't turn into a zombie during the busy ones. (The seer told him zombies can only be made with spells and magic dust of some kind, but he's seen his CO after two weeks of sixteen-hour shifts. Better safe than sorry.) He toughens up, gets faster and stronger, learns new tricks and gets one hell of a lot of new scars, and he survives. That, he figures, is a pretty awesome measure of his success.

Still, when he gets recruited by some top-secret agency called SHIELD who are based in New York, he's got to admit he's pretty relieved. There's no way they have a huge vamp problem there, or he'd have heard about it before now. That densely populated an area has to have some supernatural scum lurking around to take advantage of the unlucky, but the rent must be too high or something because he's never been needed there in his twenty years of vampire slaying. With any luck the only thing he'll have to concentrate on is his missions with SHIELD. It'll be a walk in the park.


	2. Secret Identities and Making Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The adventures of Clint Barton, Vampire Slayer. 
> 
> This part: secret identities and making friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Natasha is going to show up at some point, I promise. Just not quite yet...

So, SHIELD has superheroes working for them.

OK, not actually working for, or not working for them all the time, but they seem to be around the base pretty much all the time doing odd jobs for Fury. Bruce Banner seems to be the resident computer and tech geek, at least when he's not big and green. Thor is an actual god who spends his spare time playing bass guitar for a band called 'Dingoes Ate My Baby', who perform regularly in a local club. Tony Stark is too cool to spend much time on the helicarrier, preferring to be with Pepper at his stupidly large tower, but when he is around he hangs out with Bruce so they can talk geek. Steve Rogers disappears into the city most days to help out at shelters of various kinds, when he's not making sure that none of the others blow up the carrier.

They look like a pretty decent bunch of people. Clint figures, what the hell, might as well see if he can make some new friends.

"So, hey," he says, strolling into Bruce's lab. It's not the most original greeting but Clint is a fan of the direct approach. "This all looks... complicated." The mess of wires and machines and equipment held together with duct tape looks frankly terrifying, actually, but that's probably not the best thing to say to ingratiate himself.

"Oh... um... hi?" Bruce says, looking up from where he was apparently engrossed in some pretty boring-looking graphs. His hair is all over the place and the way he's blinking rapidly tells Clint that he hasn't looked up from that screen in hours. "I'm sorry, did you want something? Did Coulson send you to get the results from the new semiconductors? I thought he didn't want those until tomorrow, I haven't finished writing them up yet but -"

"Whoa, hey," Clint says, holding his hands up. "Slow down, Doc. None of that. I just came by to say hi. New here, thought I'd introduce myself, be a good neighbour and all that jazz."

"Oh." Bruce looks a little bit stunned at that, which just makes Clint all the more determined to be his friend. What, so he's got a soft spot for the underdog, big surprise there.

"Hi, I'm Clint Barton," he says, stepping forwards and holding out his hand with his best smile on his face.

Awkwardly, Bruce wipes his hand on his jeans and then shakes Clint's. "Bruce Banner," he adds, almost as if he's just remembering how introductions go. "It's... uh, it's nice to meet you."

"Likewise," Clint says, and pulls himself up a seat. "So, who's this Coulson you mentioned?"

Once he's calmed down and stopped stuttering, Bruce turns out to have a subtle but sharp sense of humour, and is a wealth of information about the places and people on the base. He's also clearly not as unpopular as he thinks he is, because by the time the afternoon is out, Clint has been introduced to Thor, Tony and Steve simply by way of being around when they came to see Bruce.

There's clearly something going on between Thor and Bruce, because tall blonde and handsome sticks around to give off protective vibes until he's determined that Clint isn't any danger. Tony is almost as much of a diva as he comes across in the news, although he's not as much of an asshole. He seems to wind everyone up while also inducing a fond tolerance of his bullshit. Clint might like him, he might not.

Steve looks like he wants to adopt Clint on sight, asking if he's being fed enough and not being worked too hard, wanting to know about his hearing aids and if there's anything they need to do to make sure he understands them properly. If Steve didn't live on-base, Clint is pretty sure the guy would be inviting him round for a home-cooked meal and giving him a bed, which is weird but cool and he's not going to object too much to being cooed over.

Coulson is the guy in charge of superheroes, and when he turns up late that afternoon, he seems pleased to find Clint there. Well, maybe 'pleased' is an overstatement. 'Satisfied' might be more appropriate. He's utterly calm and unassuming, orders Tony off the base and back to his tower and actually gets Stark to do what he wants without breaking a sweat, manages Thor's enthusiastic greeting with unshakeable aplomb, is unfailingly polite to Steve even though his crush on the guy is obvious, and claps Bruce fondly on the back before he leaves. Steve and Thor follow shortly afterwards, leaving Clint and Bruce alone again.

"That guy is scary," Clint decides.

"Coulson?" Bruce says, looking surprised. "I suppose maybe he seems that way at first. He's a nice guy once you get to know him though."

Unconvinced, Clint says, "Uh-huh."

"So, uh, I've gotta get back to his," Bruce says, indicating his bench. "But if you like, we're going to this club in town tonight, the Bronze. Thor's band plays there on a Thursday, and they're pretty good. Well, I think so, anyway. Only if you want to though, you don't have to, and Steve won't come with us so if you want to stay here with him then that's fine as well."

"Sounds like fun to me," Clint assures him with a grin. "What time?"

"Meet at eight?"

"Perfect."

\-- -- -- -- --

It's an interesting night.

Clint changes into his best jeans (might as well make a good impression), adds a t-shirt and pulls on his black jacket which has pockets for holy water, a stake and a cross (although nothing big enough for a bow, sadly). Then he heads out into New York City, and walks the half hour it takes to get to the club without seeing or sensing a single vamp or demon nearby. He should be thanking his lucky stars that he's finally ended up somewhere he doesn't need to be on guard all the time, but instead it just makes him on edge with anticipation. Not enough that he doesn't enjoy the evening – Bruce is good company, the band Thor's in are pretty good despite their ridiculous name, and both Tony and Pepper liven things up when they arrive – but when he gets the chance to head up to the balcony, he takes it.

Up here, he can feel the beat and hum of the music in his bones, soothing and powerful as he scans the crowd below for anything out of the ordinary. He's not expecting to see Coulson doing the same across the other side – and that's more than a little creepy – but before he has a chance to go and talk to the guy, he spots someone entering the club who is giving off all the wrong signals.

"It's waaay past your bedtime, pal," Clint mutters under his breath, and slides his stake into his hand before he heads downstairs.

Unfortunately, that's where he loses the vamp, and it's definitely nearby but Clint can't for the life of him see the damn thing. It must have gone outside by the back exit, so he heads down the dingy corridor that houses the restrooms either side and the door at the end. He can barely see a thing and he's been tensed for action all evening, which his only excuse for acting on instinct when a dark figure flings open the door to the men's and emerges out at high speed. Clint has it up against the wall with an arm at its throat and a stake at is heart before he realises that, oh fuck, he just nearly staked Tony Stark.

"Jesus Christ, Barton," Stark exclaims when Clint lets him go. "Are you on something? Do you need to be on something? What the hell was that?"

"Sorry, sorry," Clint says, hastily hiding the stake up his sleeve. He goes for his best disarming smile, which seems to be largely ineffective given that Tony is still glaring at him. "You startled me, guess I overreacted."

"You can say that again."

"Buy you a drink?" Clint offers.

The glare fades and is replaced by an almost predatory grin. "Make it two for both of us and you're on."

"Sure thing," Clint grins back. "I need some air first. Gimme five minutes?"

"No sneaking out while my back is turned," Tony warns, and Clint nods.

The vamp is hiding behind the door, and seems very surprised when Clint a) knows exactly where it is, b) isn't scared and c) puts a stake through its heart. It's quick and easy, and Clint feels a whole lot better afterwards. It's not that he wants there to be more vamps, but when there's none around at all he gets kinda antsy. Whistling, he puts the stake away, and heads back inside to rejoin the thankfully oblivious group.

Two minutes later, when Clint is distracted doing shots with Tony, Coulson heads down from the balcony and makes his way outside. When he sees the small pile of dust behind the door, he nods in satisfaction, and leaves to fill Fury in on the new development.

\-- -- -- -- --

The next few weeks are pretty great; light on the demons, leaving Clint plenty of time for the couple of missions he gets sent on. He takes out the targets, refuses to let his handlers push him around, gets a strip torn off him by Fury for insubordination, and watches from the air vents when the handlers get the same treatment for being 'arrogant motherfuckers who don't know when your agent is better at their job than you are'. There's nothing that calls for superheroes, so in their downtime the team watch films and bitch about training sessions that come with homework (apart from Steve, who is the one insisting that everyone else do theirs, even Tony, no, don't copy from Bruce), and go to the Bronze to watch Thor every week. Bruce does most of the watching, and gets a stupid grin on his face every time Thor raises his guitar above his head and smiles at Bruce. It's adorable.

After the third week without any major demon attacks, Clint decides that he probably doesn't need to patrol every night, and heads to the local library to dig out some nice easy books to read in bed instead. He's been in the fiction section for five minutes and is just about to put back the biologically inaccurate and highly simplified vampire novel he pulled from the shelf by accident, when a voice next to him says, "I don't think that's what you're looking for."

When he's finished leaping a foot backwards and only just avoiding sending the entire sci-fi and fantasy shelf crashing into the ground, Clint crosses his arms in front of him and glares at Coulson.

"Didn't anyone teach you it's a bad idea to sneak up on highly trained assassins?" he demands.

Unruffled, Coulson replies, "Keep your voice down, agent, we're in a library. And I'd apologise for startling you, but quite frankly I expected better from someone Fury keeps telling me is one of our best agents." For a moment they just look at each other, sizing each other up. It could go either way, but then Coulson nods at the book Clint's still holding and adds, "Although I can see how 'Vampires in Venice' would prove a formidable distraction."

Clint snorts out a laugh, and relaxes. "It looks like shit," he counters. "And I'm pretty sure you're a ninja, which is why I didn't spot you." He pauses and adds, "Sir," because he does actually like the guy. It's the humour that does it, but the fact that he's an unflappable badass who's head over heels for Steve Rogers goes in his favour as well.

Coulson inclines his head in acknowledgement. "If you'll come back with me, I'm sure we can find you something more suitable to read in the base library," he says. That's code for 'We've got a mission for you and you've got prep to do, pronto,' if Clint's ever heard it, so he sighs and resigns himself to a night of reading briefing sheets.

"Lead the way, sir," he says, and follows Coulson out of the library.

The first inkling Clint gets that he might have been wrong in his assumption is when Coulson leads him in the opposite direction to his office. The second is when the room they end up in is on the lowest level of the helicarrier, and needs Coulson's swipe card to access it. It's filled with shelves upon shelves of actual old, dusty books, and has a desk at the front with a computer on it. It looks suspiciously like a library.

The third is when Coulson disappears beneath that desk for a good two minutes, and emerges with the biggest, oldest looking book Clint has ever seen. He lets it fall to the desk and spins it to face Clint. When the dust settles it very clearly says "VAMPYR" across the front of it in a font that Hollywood didn't steal for their horror films but really should have.

"Oh, damn," Clint says.

He really hopes he looks as disgruntled as he feels. He wonders whether it's bad form to knock both a senior agent and his new Watcher out, which he's feeling a very intense urge to do right now. Unfortunately, it probably is. Coulson doesn't look like the type to go down easily either.

"That," he adds, "is really not what I was looking for."

"Welcome to SHIELD," Coulson says, looking amused. "Why don't you have a seat? I've got a lot to tell you."

\-- -- -- -- --

Coulson's not kidding. Clint makes a list of the things he considers to be important, and ignores the disparaging look Coulson gives him when he sees the extent of Clint's note-taking skills.

->SHIELD know about vampires. Not priority target.  
->Most people don't know about Slayers. Fury, Hill, Coulson, higher-ups are exception (incl. Agent Romanoff, currently away on undercover mission). Also, Bruce, Tony, Pepper, Steve, Thor.  
->Bruce = witch  
->Lightning + vampire = flames + amused Thor  
->Hammer + vampire = vampire guts + amused Thor + annoyed team  
->Cap responsible for first aid (transl: he's mom)  
->Pepper + high heels + vamp = dust  
->Don't expect help from Tony (transl: he's lazy)  
->***Demon-busting weapons, level 7 armoury***  
->Training with Coulson expected 3x per week :(  
->Patrols expected every night (precaution only)

It's a lot to take in but basically what it boils down to is that as the Slayer, Clint is expected to keep the vampire problem in check, but as New York doesn't actually have much of a vampire problem his work with SHIELD will take priority. Which is pretty much what he's been doing so far, only now it looks like he has a whole team to back him up on- and off-base. Pretty cool, really.

"It might be a good idea if you re-introduce yourself to the team," Coulson suggests when they're done, and he's given up trying to load half the library off onto Clint for some 'light bedtime reading'. "I'm sure they'll be very interested to find out who you are. Agent Romanoff gets back next week; I'd recommend making yourself known to her at the earliest opportunity as well."

Slightly dazed, Clint takes the new swipe card Coulson gives him that gets him into this library and also the level seven armoury (he knows which one of those he'll be spending the most time in), and heads off to find the team.

\-- -- -- -- --

They're not best pleased when he interrupts their watching of 'The Bourne Supremacy', but they forgive him when he says, "Coulson said I should tell you guys I'm the Slayer. I figured now was as good a time as any," and throws his stake into the bullseye of the rec room dart board. There's a stunned silence that's broken by the dartboard crashing to the floor – Clint winces; Fury's so gonna take that out of his paycheque – and then everyone's talking at once.

"Whoa, whoa!" Clint says, holding his hands up when they start bombarding him with questions. "There's really not that much to tell. I kill vamps and demons, try not to get killed myself, more of a bow and arrow guy than a stake one but I'll use whatever I've got. That's pretty much it. I'm more interested in hearing what you guys can do. Bruce, you first; you've been holding out on me, big guy."

Shyly, Bruce quickly runs through the spells and potions he can make, and then moves on to a pretty neat demonstration of a spinning stake that ends when Bruce looks up to see everyone watching him and gets nrevous. The stake almost goes through the wall. "I, uh, haven't quite mastered the control yet," he says sheepishly. "The whole magic thing is still pretty new."

"Cool," Clint decides and transfers his gaze to the others. "And what about you guys?"

Thor exchanges glances with Steve, Tony and Pepper. "It would be unwise for me to demonstrate my skills in such a confined space," he decides. "Perhaps we should venture to one of this city's nests in order to put our combined skills to use?"

Clint grins. "A field trip? Thor, you have the best ideas."

"I'm in," Bruce confirms.

"I'll bring the first aid kit," Steve sighs.

"And I'll help Steve," Pepper decides. "You'll need it."

Tony is the voice of dissent. "Oh no, no way," he says adamantly, folding his arms across his chest. "I'm not a part of your little Avengers gang, remember? Have you got any idea what vamp dust does to the Iron Man suit? I'll spend days cleaning it out afterwards, JARVIS will bitch at me, and it'll still never be the same. I'm not going on your little joyride of fun just so you can all watch Barton show off. It's nothing we haven't all seen – mmph!"

"Shut up, Tony," Pepper says mildly, putting her hand across his mouth. "And wear one of the old versions if you're that bothered." Tony subsides, glowering. "We'll meet you at St Mary's churchyard in half an hour," she tells the others, and drags Tony out of the room.

Clint pulls the stake out of the wall – which takes a fair amount of his Slayer-enhanced strength, go Bruce – and flips it in the air as he turns around. "Let's go, fellas," he says with a grin.

\-- -- -- -- --

Slaying is a lot more fun with a whole bunch of people to help out, Clint discovers. It's also considerably more terrifying, because for people who are supposed to be superheroes, they're clumsy, uncoordinated and lack common sense a lot of the time. They've only got a few newly risen vamps to deal with though, so mostly it's just hilarious to watch everyone while he balances on top of a gravestone ready to pick off anything that gets too close to doing actual harm.

Thor seems to delight in swinging his hammer with more enthusiasm than aim, sending bodies flying every which-way while he calls out Asgardian insults at them. Killing them doesn't really seem to enter his head, but at least he's having fun. Tony and Bruce gang up on their vampire, leading it a merry dance before they tackle it to the ground with Bruce underneath, where he holds its arms behind its back while Tony jams a stake through its heart. Watching Iron Man hold himself as far away as possibly from the ensuing dust cloud is possibly the funniest thing Clint has ever seen, not least because he largely fails.

At the sidelines, Steve and Pepper guard the perimeter and the first aid kit. Steve uses his shield to bounce back any Thor-propelled vamps that head their way, Pepper is ready with her stake to turn anything that gets past to ashes. Nothing does, because as much as Clint is having fun watching the show, he's paying attention, too. When he sees the remaining vampires turn desperate, he yells for Thor to send them his way and everyone else to watch. (What? He's a showman, he loves performing for an audience.)

Thor, with a look of great satisfaction, does his part brilliantly.

One, two, three, he sends them arcing across the graveyard towards Clint; one, two, three, Clint sights, tracks, looses; one, two, three, clouds of ash slowly complete their trajectories and drift down to the grass below.

"Dammit, Barton," Tony growls from inside his suit, hunching his shoulders as the dust settles on him.

"Oops," Clint says cheerfully. "Bad luck, Stark."

Bruce tries unsuccessfully to hide his smile; Thor offers to shake Tony until the dust comes out; Steve and Pepper burst into fits of laughter. Clint watches them goof around, smiles, and decides he likes it here.


	3. Natasha Romanoff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The adventures of Clint Barton, Vampire Slayer. 
> 
> This part: Natasha Romanoff

Coulson is willing to let the book stuff slide – apparently he's a big fan of research and history himself, which means Clint doesn't need to do much – but insists on getting a training routine going for Clint, focussing on the hand-to-hand. Clint complains on the grounds that he does all his slaying from a distance and also that Coulson really isn't going to be much of a match for him, lacking as he is Clint's Slayer strength, speed and reaction times.

All good points, Coulson concedes. He then counters with the arguments that it's better to be thoroughly prepared for the occasions when he's taken by surprise and the bow isn't an option, and that what Coulson lacks in speed and strength, he makes up for in experience and technical knowledge. Not, he points out, that he's much of a slouch in the speed and strength areas either.

"In any case, once Agent Romanoff returns, you'll be training with her for the most part," Coulson adds as he strips off his jacket and rolls his shirt sleeves up. "This will be more of a supplement to your work with her."

"What, is she some kind of Watcher as well?" Clint asks, bouncing on the balls of his feet, already in his gym kit.

"Something like that," Coulson agrees. "Now then, if you could concentrate on the task at hand, Barton."

Once he's finished kicking Coulson's ass – although with nowhere near as much ease as he'd imagined, there's probably a fair amount Coulson can teach him after all – Clint heads off to find Bruce and ask about this mysterious Agent Romanoff everyone keeps talking about.

"Coulson didn't tell you?" Bruce says, looking surprised.

"Tell me what? Who is she?"

"Well, uh -"

"What're we talking about?" Tony asks, breezing into the lab and interrupting Bruce's stuttering.

"Clint was asking about Agent Romanoff," Bruce explains.

Tony gets a gleam in his eye. "He doesn't know?"

"Don't know what?" Clint demands.

"Romanoff is the Black Widow," Tony says. "Know the name?"

"Yeah," Clint frowns. "Ex-KGB spy, assassin, defected to us ten years back, right?"

"Got it in one," Tony agrees. "She's kinda like you, only less of a smart-ass and a whole lot more scary."

"So why does Coulson want me to train with her?" Clint asks. "I mean, I know she's good, but how's she gonna be a match for Slayer strength?"

Bruce opens his mouth to answer but Tony leaps in before he can speak, which Clint notices with suspicion. "The KGB experimented on her with genetics and chemicals, kinda like Steve. She's not as physically strong as he is, but she's one hell of a lot faster, and she's got moves he can't touch. I'm willing to bet she'll give you a run for your money."

Thor turns up then, moving to his usual position just to the side of Bruce. "You speak of Agent Romanoff?" he enquires.

"Yeah," Bruce replies, tilting his head back to smile at Thor and also wink at him in what is probably supposed to be a discreet signal. "We were just filling him in on her history with the KGB."

"And how that makes her super strong and fast," Tony adds helpfully, with a significant look at Thor which Clint doesn't miss.

"Got anything to add, Thor?" Clint asks.

Slowly, a smile grows on Thor's face. "I believe you will find her a formidable opponent," is all he says.

Clint rolls his eyes and hops off his stool. "You three suck at subtlety," he tells them. "I don't know what it is you and Coulson aren't telling me, but as soon as I meet this Romanoff, I'm damn well going to find out." He claps Bruce on the shoulder before he leaves though, because he's not really annoyed with the guy and he always looks like he needs the extra reassurance. Thor and Tony get nothing though. Their egos are big enough as it is.

\-- -- -- -- --

Patrols from Monday to Thursday go as usual; head out just before sunset, perch in a tree or on top of a mausoleum, wait for vamps to appear, put long piece of wood through their heart from where he's sat. When he's bored, he likes to aim just in front of their feet and make them do a slalom through the arrows, giving them marks out of ten for speed and dexterity before he finishes them off. It's a good thing vamps don't partipate in the olympics. They're pretty shit at it.

Thor and Bruce come with him on Wednesday, so Clint gets to see the lightning in action and also Bruce's newest spell. It's supposed to be artificial sunlight, although it's more like a flashlight to be honest. Bruce just seems happy that nothing exploded, and also that Thor comes over to pick him up off the ground when the fighting is done. Clint rolls his eyes and doesn't let them see his smile.

Friday goes a little differently. Parts one to three go without a hitch; he leaves the base after dinner in the mess, heads to St Andrew's graveyard at Coulson's suggestion, and finds a nice tall tree with an excellent view of the assorted crypts and gravestones held within the perimeter fence. When the sun dips below the horizon, he nocks his arrow and gets ready to pick off some vamps.

That's when things stop going how they're supposed to.

The first movement he sees is that of a vampire entering the graveyard, but it's not the controlled stalk they usually employ. Instead it flies backwards over the ground until it hits a gravestone with what Clint imagines is a very loud crunch, doing both gravestone and vampire serious damage. While the vampire in question is shaking its head dazedly, a dark figure with deep red hair takes a running jump at it, sends one strong-but-stylish boot into its head, and drives a stake through its heart with one efficient motion. Clint watches in awe.

There's a blur behind her and he's about to call out a warning but she ducks when it launches itself at her, then comes up underneath it and throws it over the broken gravestone. It shortly receives a similar treatment to the first. Three more show up after that, and Clint's ready to help at any moment but she really doesn't need it, so he just watches and admires as she makes short work of them. No fuss, no waste, no panic; she's got some seriously impressive moves, and an amazing ability to make use her environment in ways that neither the vamps nor Clint expect.

There's only one person he knows who moves like this, quick and sure and fluid, and that's himself.

Even he isn't as good as she is. Not even close. He's going to have some questions for her in a minute, although he's fairly sure that he already knows the answers to 'who' and 'what' already. It's the 'how' that makes no sense.

With a perfectly executed somersault off the top of a gravestone and over the head of the last vamp, she lands solidly and punches her stake through its back, and she's done. The dust settles around her, body still and calm now but still obviously ready for action should it be required. Clint lowers his bow and puts his arrow back in his quiver, because there's no way anything else is going to be coming within a mile of this place tonight.

"Hey!" he calls down to her. "Good guy coming down the tree. Please don't stake me."

She turns to look at him, finding him easily, and even from across the graveyard Clint's Slayer senses are tingling when their eyes meet. "I won't if you won't," she calls back, but doesn't put her stake away.

They eye each other up as Clint approaches, stopping a few feet away with his stake still in hand, just in case he's reading this wrong. "Black Widow," he says with certainty. She inclines her head without taking her eyes off him. "Vampire slayer," Clint adds, and she nods again. "Agent Romanoff, of SHIELD," he concludes, and that makes her raise an eyebrow.

"Now how do you know that?" she asks.

"Clint Barton, SHIELD agent, codename Hawkeye," he introduces himself. "Also, Clint Barton, Vampire Slayer."

"Ah," she says.

"Yeah," Clint agrees. "How the fuck did that happen?"

She murmurs something in Russian. At Clint's bemused glance, she translates: "Hell if I know."

Clint grins, and slides his stake into his back pocket. After a moment, she does the same. "Shall we go bug Coulson until he tells us?" he suggests.

"That, Agent Barton, sounds like an excellent plan."

\-- -- -- -- --

By the time they get back to the base, they're Clint and Natasha and have bonded over shared tales of vampire-slaying and demon-hunting adventures, along with a careful avoidance of any childhood reminiscing that neither comments on but both are aware of. When they knock on Coulson's door and go in without waiting for an answer, standing side-by-side in front of his desk with their arms crossed, Coulson looks up at them and sighs. "Well, it was always going to go one way or the other. I suppose I'm glad you've chosen to be friends rather than enemies."

Natasha and Clint exchange glances and, yeah, they're definitely going to enjoy winding Coulson up together.

\-- -- -- -- --

When Clint was twenty five, he'd found a large group of Kungai living in a cave network outside a small village. Going in to take them out had turned out to be a bad idea, because when he was down to his last arrow there were still four of them left, and they'd got him backed up against a large pool of water. So he'd taken out his last arrow, attached the sonic head to it, and jumped backwards into the pool as he fired, figuring that the sonic blast would do their ears and brains serious damage, while hopefully his would be at least somewhat protected if he was underwater.

When Clint was twenty five, he'd taken out four Kungai demons with one arrow.

When Clint was twenty five, he'd suffered a major concussion and serious damage to his hearing as a result of that one arrow, despite being underwater at the time.

When Clint was twenty five, he'd been technically dead for about a minute, until one of the villagers who had followed him into the cave had pulled him out of the water and resuscitated him.

When Natasha was fourteen, she'd been called as the Slayer.

"Into every generation, a Slayer is born," the legends say. And "When one falls, another will rise."

Clint fell, and Natasha rose, and then the magic got a bit screwy because Clint came back and now there are two Slayers in this generation.

"Works for me," Clint decides with a shrug.

"Da," Natasha agrees.

"We'll go through tactics tomorrow," Coulson tells them, and doesn't let his fear at their synchronised eye-rolling show.

\-- -- -- -- --

The gang is waiting for them in the rec room, where this time they're watching Lost in Translation. Engrossed as they are, they pause it without a second thought when Clint and Natasha walk in. Every single one of them, Pepper and Cap included, look smug as hell.

"You're all bastards," Clint announces without heat. "Natasha is my new best friend, and I'm not sharing my chocolate with any of you any more."

"Since when do you share chocolate anyway?" Tony demands.

"With Bruce every Tuesday lunchtime," Clint replies. "No more, big guy," he tells Bruce, who mock pouts, and has a shy smile that says he knows Clint is lying.

"You have established the true identity of Agent Romanoff, I trust?" Thor asks, from where he's sat pressed up against Bruce's side, one arm around Bruce's shoulders. They look cautiously happy together, and the cutest thing is how they obviously think that no-one else has noticed.

"Kinda hard to miss it when she started staking vamps right under my nose," Clint says dryly, sinking to the floor next to Tony, who is sprawled out in front of Pepper's chair and has the popcorn. "At least now I know why there's been practically nothing for me to kill whilst I've been here; if I was a demon, I'd steer well clear of Natasha as well."

"Did you show him how it was done?" Pepper asks.

"I wasn't at my best, but I think he learned a trick or two," Natasha replies.

Clint shrugs and steals the popcorn that Tony is trying to keep from him. "Fair assessment."

"It's good to have you back, Natasha," Steve says quietly, sincerely.

Natasha smiles, and Clint watches in wonder as she goes over to give Captain America an actual hug. Who knew that either of them did hugs? Then Natasha hugs Pepper, too, followed by Bruce (who Thor reluctantly lets go of) and then Thor (after which she somehow manoeuvres the two of them into an even closer position than they were before).

"Don't even try it, Romanoff" Tony mutters from the floor, eyeing her with suspicion.

"Wouldn't dream of it, Stark," she responds smoothly, stepping over him on the way to the empty chair next to Steve.

"Don't I get one?" Clint asks, rolling over to watch her and try his puppy-dog eyes on her.

Utterly immune, she replies, "Not until I know you better."

"About what I expected," Clint decides, and rolls back over.

"Bruce, film," Tony calls, even though the remote is right next to his hand.

"Tony, don't make Bruce use magic just because you can't be bothered to move," Steve chastises, and the film night resumes with its usual bickering.

\-- -- -- -- --

The next morning, Fury stops by the training room where Clint and Natasha are getting ready to demonstrate their skills (and where everyone else is gathered around the outside of with snacks) to inform all concerned that just because there are now two Slayers on base does not mean that the Avengers have permission to abandon their official SHIELD duties, for which they are being paid.

"I'll ensure that doesn't happen, sir," Coulson tells Fury. "However I felt it prudent to explore their strengths and see how they work together before they get sent into the field, for either reason."

"Very well," Fury says. "Carry on, then."

"Spoilsport," Tony decides after he's left.

"Stark, show some respect," Coulson orders. "Everyone else, be quiet or be somewhere else, I don't care which. Barton, you're up."

Stepping into the centre of the room, flicking open his bow, Clint asks, "What, no drumroll?"

"Tada," Coulson says dryly, stepping aside. "Ready?"

"Hit it," Clint says, and Coulson presses the button that raises Clint's platform six feet into the air and sends holographic targets (stick-figure vampires) whizzing around the room. There's way more of them than there would be in a real situation, and no need to hit the heart (not that stick-figures have hearts), but this is about showing speed and accuracy, which Clint does with ease. If he says so himself, he's on damn good form, and finishes with a couple of trick shots (one arrow for two vamps, followed by two arrows at once to even the numbers up) just because he can. He gets a round of applause from the gang, a "Not bad," from Coulson, and an "Impressive," from Natasha, whose gaze he felt the entire time and whose praise sounds sincere.

"Barton, you've already seen how Romanoff works in the field," Coulson says when Clint's finished collecting up his arrows. "How about we see how you two fare against each other in the hand-to-hand? You can try some of that training I know has been going in one ear and out of the other."

"Oh, you're so gonna get your ass kicked," Tony calls out, before he's muffled by Steve, which earns the Cap a grateful look from Coulson.

"Bring it on," Clint says to Natasha. It's probably a sign that neither one of them should be considered entirely rational creatures, that both of them look equally enthused at the idea of getting to hit the other, even if this is a training situation and they'll both be pulling their punches. Somewhat. Hey, what's the use of having Slayer healing if you can't use it to play a little fast and loose with your safety sometimes?

Clint gets his ass handed to him. Thoroughly and repeatedly. After she's established that she won't do his hearing aids any harm by knocking him around, Natasha proceeds to demonstrate her superiority over him in every way possible. They're both pretty much equal in terms of strength, but she's faster, sneakier, bolder, more efficient, and somehow seems to anticipate half the moves he makes so she's either not there when he tries to land a blow or she's ready to use his move against him. Her acrobatics, all the flips and spins and annoying ability to roll out of falls and come up swinging, mean Clint has a hard time keeping up with where she's been and is going and even currently is.

"I really shouldn't be enjoying this as much as I am," he pants, face down on the mat while Natasha twists his arms behind him and digs her knee into the small of his back.

She snorts in amusement and lets him go so he can roll over to see Coulson standing above them.

"I really didn't need to hear that," Coulson sighs.

"Neither did I," Tony calls across the room. "You made Steve blush, Clint," he adds.

"I didn't mean it like that," Clint protests as Natasha pulls him up and pulls his rucked-up t-shirt back down for him.

"Really?" she murmurs, fingers brushing just above his waistband before she pulls them away. "That's a shame, because I do. And while we're at it, let me just say that you make quite the picture when you're shooting. Those sleeveless tops are a good look on you, Barton."

"Huh," is all Clint can manage, throat dry and flushing slightly as she holds his gaze.

She pats his cheek and smiles. "Think about it," she suggests as she walks away.

"Really didn't need to hear it," Coulson reiterates.

"Does this mean I get my hug?" Clint calls after Natasha, grinning when she just lets the door swing shut behind her.

"Alright, session over, everyone back to work," Coulson orders. Tony escapes as fast as possible, making disgusted noises as he goes (Clint doesn't mind, he knows Tony's a softie at heart really, he's seen how he dotes on Pepper); Thor and Bruce seem to want to stick around in case there's any more entertainment but eventually leave; Pepper disappears to find Natasha (those two seem to be the best of buds). Clint leaves Steve and Coulson to stare awkwardly at each other across the room while they shuffle their feet, and heads for the shower to blow off some steam.

\-- -- -- -- --

Hunting with Natasha is fun.

Not to detract from the seriousness of it; killing the evil vampires, retrieving powerful magic items, rescuing cats from demons and people from trees (it's a sign of their mad life that those things are actually in the right order), saving the world, they're all very important and not at all to be made light of.

But.

They banter, they have each other's backs, they swap weapons when they're bored, lead things on a merry chase or let things lead them on an even merrier one if they've got time to kill and energy to burn. Watching Natasha move is an experience that leaves Clint wholly impressed and slightly turned on, because damn but she's good at what she does. He enjoys catching the things that try to run away from Natasha, taking them out before they can get more than ten paces away, and watching the others reconsider their options before they choose Natasha as the lesser of two evils. She's actually the greater of two goods, but they don't realise that until too late.

The first time they go out together, Clint doesn't shoot anything. When they're done, Natasha's barely even breathing hard even though she's done all of the work. "Nice job, Barton," she says, and leans over to kiss him on the cheek. Bemused, Clint blinks. Before he can think to ask what that was for, Natasha suggests, "Try shooting something next time, see what happens," and goes to retrieve her stake from where she threw it across the cemetery.

The second time they go out, Clint takes out a vamp with an arrow to the heart. Natasha brushes her lips across his, pats him on the butt and sends him to get his arrow back. Clint grins the whole way back to base. Two vamps results in a full thirty seconds (Clint counts) of lip-to-lip contact. Three results in some tongue, and Natasha has to link her arm with his for two blocks to stop him walking into the road after that.

They go hunting hell hounds one evening, Natasha with a sword slung over her back, looking stealthy and supremely dangerous in her black jeans and leather jacket, fingerless gloves to partially protect her hands against the snarling jaws of the hounds. Surrounded by the pack, they fight back to back, Clint loosing arrows at the smaller members while Natasha wields her sword and sends the larger ones back to where they came from. The leader of the pack is the last to fall, a huge brute of a beast that gets a few bites in before Natasha plunges the sword through its chest, its cut-off howl echoing around the night sky while its blood soaks into the ground.

Breathing heavily, they let their weapons drop and look at each other. Natasha wipes blood-sprays from her face with one hand, which doesn't make things much better. Her clothes are torn and ripped from sharp teeth, chest heaving as she drags in air, hair tangled and matted with bodily fluids. The moon glimmers in her eyes, and her face reflects lust for all manner of things Clint can only imagine.

Sheathing her sword, voice almost a growl, she orders, "Brace yourself, Barton."

Clint doesn't ask for what, just slings his bow over his back and stands firm. When she runs at him and leaps, he catches her, slides his hands underneath her ass to hold her as she wraps her legs around his waist, and tilts his head back so she can seal their mouths together. It's messy and uncoordinated, they're both breathing too hard to maintain it for long, and Natasha's far from gentle with him, one hand pressing on his jaw until he opens his mouth and lets her in. Their tongues meet and he tastes blood, whose or what he doesn't know, doesn't care, just wants more.

Her hands yank the zip of his jacket down, shove his t-shirt up, and slide beneath. Cool leather, hot fingers, sliding roughly over his chest and across his ribs and behind his back, making him shiver and shudder in their wake. Clint keeps a tight hold of her ass – not because he needs to, she's got her thighs tight around him and isn't going anywhere, but because he wants to – and groans into her mouth as her hands spread fire against a body that's already overheated from exertion and arousal. He'd return the favour but there's no way he's got the dexterity to get beneath her jacket right now, and she's rubbing against him while making sounds that tell him she's pretty much got it covered herself.

Clint stands beneath the light of a full moon with a trained killer in his arms, and feels like he could do this forever.

When they get back to base considerably later than planned, lips bruised, hands entwined, Coulson gives them a knowing look and tells them they can patch each other up this time. "And please, for the love of God, stop eyeing my desk like that. You look like you want to do things on it that would be severely detrimental to the well-being of my paperwork, and my sanity."

"It just looks like it'd be perfect for tying Clint to," Natasha says innocently, which makes Clint choke on his water and Coulson bury his head in his hands.

"No tying me up until I've had my hug," Clint tells her firmly when he's recovered.

"Making out for half an hour doesn't count?"

"Nope."

"Please. Leave. Now."

\-- -- -- -- --

Sex is inevitable, which means they can afford not to rush it. They ignore the constant ribbing from the team (save for Pepper, who just hands them both condoms and tells them not to keep them near the weapons), and carry on at their own pace.

Bruce tells Clint that he's happy for him; Clint grabs him in a hug and tells him the same, and laughs when Bruce gets a wide-eyed look and asks him how he knew. "Remember what I said about you, Thor and subtlety? That still holds, big guy." Bruce blushes.

Steve takes Clint aside and has a talk to him about relationships in the field, and making sure he's sure before he says 'yes', and wishes them all the best once he's established that Clint's happy. Clint asks Natasha what version of 'the talk' she got, but she refuses to tell him.

Tony presents them both with a huge box of sex toys over dinner one evening, and then looks most disgruntled when they refuse to be embarrassed and instead discuss the various applications of most of them, including which ones could be used as effective projectile weapons should the situation arise.

Thor simply makes use of "the most hilarious art of innuendo", which makes everyone groan and causes Bruce to drag him away to shut him up. Thankfully, Thor is easily distracted by Bruce, so no-one suffers too much.

The quiet times come after SHIELD missions, which are as demanding as slaying but take one hell of a lot longer, so they're generally exhausted when they get back from them. That's when the tiny tidbits about their lives pre-Slayer come out, never to be discussed or repeated and spoken only because when they've found someone who understands, keeping things to themselves ceases to be necessary.

They go to the Bronze every week, to relax and drink and dance with each other and with everyone else. Occasionally they get Steve and Phil to join them, which means everyone gets to watch Natasha and Steve dance to the slow tunes like they're back in the forties, sure and strong and as graceful as any two people can be. (Afterwards they get to watch Phil debate asking Steve to dance with him, and always decide against it.) Tony and Pepper can bang out an epic tango, the glorious colour of Pepper's dress flaring out against the dark of Tony's smart-casual wear while they cut a path across the dance floor. Thor and Bruce can't dance for toffee, so they hold each other and sway when the slow tunes come back around, gazing into each other's eyes and doing nauseatingly cute things like rubbing their noses against each other.

Clint can't dance for toffee, either, but then again what he and Natasha do on the dancefloor can barely be described as dancing. Natasha waits for the pre-recorded set of typical club music to come on, bass thumping around the club as they turn the volume up, then holds her hand out to Clint and drags him out to join the mass of bodies there. More times than not he turns his hearing aids off so he can concentrate on how things look and feel, and then they grip each other too tight and press against each other just right, moving in time to the beat with their gazes locked and heat flaring in their cheeks. Their hips rub against each other, Natasha's breasts pressed against Clint's chest, her lips slightly parted and her hands tensing over his muscles. They steal brief, wet kisses from each other until Clint's hard in his pants and Natasha's rubbing against Clint's thigh, wrapped up in each other and the music, until they have to draw apart for the sake of public decency.

When they do finally get around to fucking, it's three long, simmering months after they've met, and Clint has savoured every single moment throughout them. Appropriately enough, the night they get around to it is Hallowe'en. There are two reasons for that. One: None of the nasties come out on Hallowe'en, because it's way too busy for them to actually get to prey on anyone anyway, which means Natasha and Clint have the night off. Two: Coulson and Steve have taken the gang out trick-or-treating, so none of them are going to be around to know what Natasha and Clint are doing. For all they don't mind the others winding them up, there are some parts of their relationship they'd much rather keep private, and their first time together is definitely one of those things.

It's one hell of a first time.

It's one hell of an any-time.

Slow and steady to start, clothes come slowly off, and they explore as if it's all new. It's not, but in the dim room with the door shut and their intentions clear, it feels that way for a while. Hands that are rough from their jobs move gently over hot skin, bodies press and move and catch against each other, until the hesitation fades and they relax. In the darkness of the room, hearing aids out, Clint can barely see Natasha's face, can hear only muffled sounds that once were words, but he can feel her reactions beneath his hands in the way her body shakes and writhes and arcs into his touch. Her hands are firm and careful as they move over him in return, only pressing harder and holding him closer when he makes impatient sounds and demands more. She both obliges and doesn't, giving him what he wants but making them both wait for more than that, drawing out the pleasure and arousal until they're both desperate with the need to finish. When Natasha finally lets them both have it though, their hands fasten together and they anchor each other while it hits them with breath-stealing intensity and a sense of fulfilment that's everything the preceding months promised it would be.

The second time follows the first in short order – another advantage of being Slayers – and this time it's hard and fast and fun, wet mouths sliding over slick skin, frantic rearrangement of bodies on the bed to allow mouths to be applied to sensitive places, hands alternately soothing and arousing as needed. It's filled with mumbled curses when one of them moves the wrong way, laughter when what should be an erogenous zone turns out to be a ticklish one, the occasional sound of pain when rough and tumble takes them into an unforgiving wall. They end up on the floor at the end of it, and Clint's sure he's got carpet burns and one hell of a bruised knee, but he can't bring himself to care because Natasha's sprawled out on his chest and he feels fantastic.

"I still haven't had my hug," he tells the ceiling. "Not a proper one, anyway. Anything during sex doesn't count." He feels Natasha shake with laughter against him. A moment later her face comes into view, hair falling around her face, eyes soft as she looks at him. Idly, Clint lifts his hand to smooth over her cheek, let his fingers trace her lips so he can feel the smile that they're curved into. Natasha's hand smooths his damp hair back from his forehead, traces the same path that his is currently doing, and cups his cheek at the end.

Gently, she tugs him until he sits up with a groan, legs crossed with Natasha's resting on the floor either side of them. Looking straight at him, speaking clearly so he can make out the words, she tells him, "You've earned your hug, Clint."

She waits for his nod that he's understood, and then wraps her arms around him, rests her head against his, and settles into him so he can feel her against him from hip to heart. Clint holds her close with his hands splayed across her back, and shuts his eyes so he can savour the sense of right that's coming from his brain and his heart and his soul.

Inside him, the part of him that is Slayer echoes right and home and safe, and recognises that its partner has finally been found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there's potential for another chapter after this one. My life got very busy after writing this chapter though, and seeing as the Clint/Natasha stuff had got to where I wanted it to be, I've just left is as it is so far :)


End file.
